Sunday, April 01, 2012

One thing I never wrote about from my previous Blogger Night Postings, was a private conversation I had with Frank McCourt. ("McC" as he liked to be known by those closest with him). Away from the Homeboys, Stews and Tragic Illnesses in attendance, Franky M opened up about the stresses he faced and how being confused with the Angela's Ashes author couldn't even get him a decent seat at The Ivy.

Why do they despise me? They eat my hot dogs, drink my Dr Peppers, and take my free second-tier bobbleheads, but all they do is treat me with ridicule and scorn.

Your site likes me, right?

ME: Of course. We defend you all the time. Especially Sax and Orel.

That's great. Just great. Which site are you again?

ME: (Pausing)

(Pausing)

(Sweating)

ME: CNN-SI.

Ah, great. I... these bloogers, They've cut me too deep. I could have changed things. EASILY. We get our beer for under a nickel a cup now. I could offer garlic fries at every hot dog stand. Heck, there's actually an underground tunnel already built which could make traffic disappear in minutes. Would only take an additional $80 per game to get it running. But the bluggles. Are vampires. All of them. ALL OF YOU.

ME: I only work in sales.

HOME? I. HAVE. NO. HOME. Hunted, despised. THE JUNGLE IS MY HOME. But I shall show the world that I can be its master!!! (phone rings)

Hi Jamie. No, I love YOU more. (Cries)

Maybe our problems with Frank McCourt were really just our problems with ourselves. And no amount of hundreds of millions will tame the beast of despair we created in him.